


The Smokeleaf Tin

by silveryink



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode 6: The Daemon Cages, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: What Lyra did to the spy-fly.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	The Smokeleaf Tin

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fill for [this meme](https://silveryinkystar.tumblr.com/post/190039867427/his-dark-materials-meme) on Tumblr. Fill for:  
> [1/1] Object: The spy-fly  
> [2/8] Character: Lyra Silvertongue  
> [1/6] Location: Bolvangar  
> [1/2] Episode: The Dæmon Cages  
> Of course, this is based on the TV Show, but there are references to some of the scenes in the first book which I had way too much fun including.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

For all his talk of being a seasoned explorer, Lee seemed quite lost. He accepted her help in erecting the tent without questioning her ability, which she appreciated. She wasn’t a seasoned camper, but Ma Costa had shown her how to do so when she’d changed the tent covers over one of the boat houses. She’d also learned how to attach and change the tarpaulin on boats for protection and proudly mentioned this to the aeronaut.

“Pass me that rod, will ya?” was all he said, but he was smiling at her and she couldn’t help but think about what she’d said to him that morning. Lee Scoresby might have been a hard man to like, but it was incredibly hard to dislike him. She didn’t mention this to Lee.

She helped him set up the tent, asking him all the while about everything his profession entailed. It was a wonder he patiently answered all her questions instead of brushing her off to someone else – the Scholars at Jordan would have, by now. Lee frowned at the rod, which stuck up unnaturally, and Lyra pointed out that he was supposed to get it to go in the opening of a connecting rod to finish the frame. The man sighed and tried to push it in, before abandoning his efforts and using his revolver to hammer it in.

Lyra thought this was a bit unsafe, but she didn’t want to question his methods. Together, they pulled the cloth of the tent over the frame, tightening the straps around the frame securely. Lee grinned at the tent, and said, “Not bad for my first time.”

“I thought an explorer would know to set up tents?” 

“I’m an aeronaut, kid,” he said. “Don’t need a tent when I’ve got my old balloon.”

“What about when you don’t need it? Like now, when it’s all packed up? Haven’t you had to make camp?”

Lee shrugged. “Eh. Mostly I stay at an inn. Never stayed in one place for too long, since I left Texas. My soul’s made for the Arctic, see.”

Lyra nodded sagely. His dæmon _was_ an Arctic hare, after all. It made perfect sense. Lee turned back to the tent, marveling at the patterns woven into the thick fabric and the way it could be easily dismantled and used to cover a sled. “They really thought of everything, huh. Right.” He clapped his hands together, and frowned. “What’s that noise?”

Lyra strained to hear something apart from the occasional clanks of the gyptians setting up their own tents and unloading the contents of the sleds. A harsh buzzing filled her ears, and she automatically looked down to her pack. The tin had slipped out and the spy-fly inside was making its usual racket. Lyra scowled at the tin, which buzzed insistently in her hands. Lee gingerly took it from her, holding it up to his ear with a questioning look.

“It’s a spy-fly,” Lyra explained, and Lee nodded. He handed the tin back to her.

“I thought the Magisterium banned those,” Lee mused. “They’re less influential in the North, but it was a pretty big deal. Put a lot of dealers out of commission. I had to track down one of them once, don’t regret destroying his supply.” He shuddered. “That old smokeleaf tin ain’t enough to contain it for long, mind.”

Lyra shrugged. “I haven’t got anything else to keep it in, and it doesn’t seem like a good idea to let it go.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea, but if the lid gets loose there’s no getting the thing back.”

A loud crash behind them interrupted the conversation. Iorek had set aside his armour and apparently dived into the lake. Lee turned back to her after watching Iorek’s movements with a quick smirk. “We’ve got an expert in metalwork right there,” he said. “How ‘bout we ask him?”

Lyra’s eyes widened. She hadn’t ever imagined getting to see an actual panserbjorn working with metal. She watched intently as Iorek rose from the water and shook off sheets of water from his fur. She looked back at Lee, who seemed mildly amused at her starstruck gaze.

“Well?”

“Won’t we be bothering him?” she asked nervously. Lee shook his head, watching as Iorek wiped down his armour with seal fat.

“Nah. He’s pretty used to it anyway. It won’t bother him to see a bunch o’ humans gawpin’ at him.”

“I’m not _gawping_ ,” Lyra muttered sullenly, following Lee’s path over to the lake where Iorek was now testing the links of his armour. He seemed satisfied by the way they swung smoothly, looking up at their approaching figures. Just as they reached him, Iorek swung the remains of the seal into Lee’s sled. Lee scowled at him, and at the seal.

“Well,” he said at last, “At least we know what’s for dinner.”

Iorek ignored this, though Lyra couldn’t fathom whether the aeronaut was joking or not. “Is there something you need?” he asked Lee.

“Can’t I just want a conversation with an old friend? Perhaps I’d like to talk about what-” he cut himself off abruptly, and it looked like he regretted what he’d said. Iorek remained silent, expression as inscrutable as it could have ever been.

“Lyra wanted to ask you something,” he said shortly, and Lyra was glad to turn Iorek’s attention away from Lee for the moment. She explained to them the whole story of how the spy-fly had come into her possession, and by the time she was done, Lee wore a look of disgust he didn’t bother to hide. She glanced at Iorek, who momentarily bared his teeth and returned to his earlier blank look. She supposed that was just about as close a reaction to Lee’s that she could have expected.

Lee murmured something under his breath, either meant for himself or Iorek, but she didn’t catch the words exactly. Iorek asked her, finally, “And what do you wish to do with it?”

Lyra turned to Lee a bit helplessly.

“I was thinking of sealing off the edges. That way it won’t escape.”

Iorek nodded slowly, inspecting the tin that Lyra had just handed over to him. “Do you have a spare tin, Lee? This one won’t last for long if someone tries to open it deliberately.”

The aeronaut nodded and felt about his pockets before handing one over. “Can’t have it escaping and revealing our location, now, can we?” he told Lyra.

She hadn’t considered this before, but an idea struck her just then. “Actually, Iorek,” she said, meeting the bear’s sharp gaze, “I think I know what to do with it.”

* * *

Lyra tried not to shudder and was grateful for Pan’s warmth in her arms. She hadn’t let go of her darling Pan since… well. She swallowed the camomile and wiped away a few errant tears that had slipped past her attempts to blink them away. She wasn’t too successful, what with the constant replay of the _awful_ sensation of a stranger’s hand on her dæmon, her helplessness to stop the rising blade once she was locked inside the cage, Pan’s terror when he hadn’t been able to break away from that doctor’s grip, the way he’d gone limp and his shock that kept him from changing form-

No, she’d cried enough. What was important now was to get away from this horrible place. She trusted that the gyptians were already on their way, but from what she remembered from the ride to Bolvangar, it could take days for them to even find the place in the vast expanse of the Arctic. She’d have to find a way out by herself, and already had half a plan in place.

Fortunately, Mrs. Coulter made it easier for her by asking her about the alethiometer and telling it to hand it over to her. Lyra shifted so that her feet were flat against the floor, and handed over a box tightly welded shut. Nobody needed to know that the alethiometer was really still inside the pocket in her furs where she always kept it for safety. Mrs. Coulter took it from her approvingly and her smile faltered momentarily as she saw the way it was securely sealed.

She moved over gracefully to the table and Lyra set her camomile aside, bracing herself to get up as soon as she needed to. Mrs. Coulter tried to prise the tin open, and Lyra tensed as the scissors broke through the layered edge. She pulled the tin open, and a loud buzzing filled the room. The golden monkey instinctively peered into the tin, and screeched when the spy-fly shot right into his face. Mrs. Coulter cried out with her dæmon, and Lyra pushed herself upright, making straight for the door. Pan curled up on her shoulder, canary-formed, and Lyra slammed it shut behind her.

She grabbed a fire extinguisher and dashed it repeatedly against the locking mechanism, screaming bloody murder until Pan reminded her that they still had to escape, that it wouldn’t be long before the guards came for them. Lyra tossed aside the cylinder and raced down the hallway, knowing that Pan was right behind her. She heard the sounds of fighting ahead, a gun firing, and a very familiar roar, and grinned. She knew she was right to trust the gyptians and Iorek. The rescue was here.


End file.
